Fifty-four Shades of Darkest Black
by DragonsDeadAndDancing
Summary: Thalendar - Dovahkiin, vampire and 'right bastard' - has seen much and done more in his years on the surface of Nirn. See him as monster, hero, murderer, friend, lover, father, ruthless villain and selfless ally in life, death, and all in between. *54 100-word one-shots, prompts/titles are titles of the Animorphs book series by K. A. Applegate - continued in skuldafn*
1. The Invasion

"Look at that," Ondolemar said, his voice dripping with disgust as he stared at the bleak landscape. "So cold. So pale. I'll pray to Auri-El every day to return to Summerset."

Thalendar didn't answer to his fellow Justiciar's comment. His golden eyes weren't looking at the rocky, flat plain covered in meagre vegetation. He was watching the sky, an empty greyish-white slate confined by the sharp peaks of high mountains yet seemingly endless. At night, he had been told, all imaginable colours were dancing over it.

"Oh," he finally muttered, still deep in thought, "I think it could be worse."


	2. The Visitor

A knock at the door interrupted the Dunmer's quiet reading. Wary of any strangers at this hour – werewolves, vampires, thieves, you name it – she reached for her sword. Then she waited, breathing shallow, listening for sounds, but if there was anyone still awake in the girls' room their noises were drowned out by the crackle of the fire and the steady tapping of rain on the roof.

Another knock disturbed the dog's deep sleep. It raised its head but didn't make a sound. "Vigilance," the Dunmer snorted as she walked to the door.

"You," she breathed as she saw him.


	3. The Encounter

The road was quieter than usual, the lonely wanderer noticed. It had been hours since he'd been attacked by the odd bandit or beast. For once, it was rather warm and birds were chirping in the trees.

He nodded politely as he passed a group of golden-clad elves, drawing his hood lower. "You!" the last of them called out.

The wanderer turned, presenting more of his face to the elves.

"You can't hide," hissed one elf. "We know what you've done. I should-"

"Come," his companion said.

"No," the wanderer said, his lips curling into a grin. "Do repeat that."


	4. The Message

"Message for you, sera."

"Oh, don't tell me. Let me guess… hooded, did not show his face, said he was a friend?"

"Exactly, sera. Here you go."

Long golden fingers unfolded the piece of paper, narrowed eyes of dark red quickly scanned the page, catching at 'Irkngthand' and 'Autumnwatch towers'. The hand crumpled the parchment into a tight ball and then ignited it with a simple spell. Moments later fine ash crumbled through the golden fingers.

"What's wrong?" asked the Dunmer next to him.

"One day, when I find out who is sending me these letters, I will kill them."


	5. The Predator

He had not thought it would feel that way. So intense, so wild, so undignified, so primitive and animalistic, yet so very appealing. From the first exciting moments of the hunt, picking up the prey's tender smell of fear, to the chase, to the oh so satisfying end with his aching teeth buried in a delicate throat. The delicate iron taste was still lingering on his tongue.

He looked at the unconscious girl slumped against the cave wall. Her dark hair hid her face and the marks that covered her entire neck. Maybe he should feel sorry for this.

Maybe…


	6. The Capture

"Hold still, bi-ah!" The Vigilant buckled over, clutching the soft parts where the Dunmer's knee had hit him. A broad-shouldered Nord struck the Dunmer across the face with such force her head flew back. Blood started to flow from her nose.

The woman calmed down after that, blinking dazed as her captors dragged her down the corridor.

"He'll come," she said as they chained her to the wall.

"That's the plan," answered the Nord.

Suddenly a terrified scream, twisted by many echoes, reached their ears. The Dunmer grinned, her eyes as crimson as the blood on her chin. "Is it?"


	7. The Stranger

"You! You come here to our country, spying for them Imps and them bastard Thalmor, robbin' us good honest Nord of our freedom and our gods an' our gold and our work and believe we'll lick ya boots an' say thank you! Jus' you wait, one day soon me an' me friends'll go march down south an' beat your golden arses outta here like we did it to them snow bastards and you'll be runnin' back to Oblivion where ya came from, slimy golden Daedra-lickin' goldenrods…"

Thalendar didn't wait for Rolff Stone-Fist's speech to end. He could imagine it anyway.


	8. The Alien

Skyrim was less civilized than a privy in Summerset. Clean water, for example, was quite obviously something the Nords had never heard about. Or hygienic. Not that as an Altmer Thalendar was prone to illnesses, but the way they prepared food here made him want to cleanse his stomach as quickly as possible from the foul, dubious ingredients. The only beverage available was mead, a strong beverage that was a far call from the light and fruity summer wines served in Alinor. They had grapes her, did they not? Some wild type called jazbay, he recalled.

There was hope left.


	9. The Secret

Secrets were the most precious things found in all of Skyrim. Everyone had them. Thalendar had discovered quite a few since he'd come to this dreary place and made even more. Sharp, small secrets. Warm, soft, loud secrets. Secrets that breathed and secrets that didn't. Secrets whispered into the night because in the daylight they weren't bearable. Secrets of allies and sharing, of companionship, friendship, secrets that belonged to many, secrets that belonged to some, secrets that were all his. Secrets of truths, secrets of lies.

But his greatest secret was that he would kill to protect all the others.


	10. The Android

It slowly grew hotter around them during their descent. Soon the air was barely breathable – not that any of them had a problem with that, luckily. Being undead had good if few perks.

They ended in a high cave, water swirling under them. Then came the ruins, with yet another of these… tonal locks, weren't they?

The gates opened and he followed her through but stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the roaring fires.

Fear rose in him, the same fear that came to him on that mountain and never left. "Katria? I don't think I'll manage this."


	11. The Forgotten

The door opened and a man stared at the visitor questioningly.

"Oh, don't tell you have already forgotten me," said the visitor cheerful.

The man's face slowly lit up with recognition. "Thalendar!" he called out. "It's been a while, isn't it?"

"An age, my friend," answered the Altmer as he entered the small house.

A few minutes later Thalendar was warming his fingers at the hearth while his host fetched two cups of wine. "Saved that for a special occasion," he said as he handed one to the Altmer. "So, what are you doing in this Aedra-forgotten corner of Skyrim?"


	12. The Reaction

It felt as if her heart stopped beating for a moment. "What?" she whispered. "Do you… do you mean it?"

The Altmer shrugged. "If you do not want to…"

"No! No, of course I want. It's just so strange to think of it…"

He made a clicking, impatient noise with his tongue. "I offer you a roof over your head, a clean bed, and food suited to your needs, not a whole plane of Oblivion."

And suddenly her skinny arms were round his neck, her face buried at his shoulder. "Thank you," she sobbed into his tunic. "Thank you, papa."


	13. The Change

It was a strange feeling. Not uncomfortable, not painful, just… strange.

He looked at the grey skin that covered his thin, sinewy arms, ran one clawed hand down the ribs that protruded sharply from his chest and lower to the hard muscles of his abdomen. He tried to close his lips around his fangs but found the long teeth too hard to cover. He touched the big ears pressed flat against his skull and the long hair drained of all colour.

Then he unfolded the wings, bony, awkward, ripped things. Slowly, beat by careful beat, he rose into the air.


End file.
